


To See A Mallorn

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/M, Fourth Age, Gen, Hobbits, The Shire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-04
Updated: 2005-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young boy of the Dunedain longs to see a <i>Mallorn.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	To See A Mallorn

**Author's Note:**

> **Posted for this year's WIP Amnesty Weekend**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Title: To See A Mallorn  
> Rating: As it is and as it was intended to be: G.  
> Pairing: not really the focus. Characters: Farry Took, Sam & Rose Gamgee, hobbit OCs, human OC named Calenbarad.  
> Notes: This was meant for one of [](http://marigoldg.livejournal.com/profile)[**marigoldg**](http://marigoldg.livejournal.com/)'s challenges. I think it fizzled because I couldn't come up with a happy ending; the one in my notes is too lenient, but I can't see King Elessar as whapping off poor Calen's head.  
> 

Calen had never been more grateful that he could swim. The river ran swift and deep, and it was almost all that he could do to keep his head above the water. If he was struggling with it, he wondered, how did the hobbits fare? Then his head went under, and water roared in his ears, and he saved all his worrying for himself. His outstretched hand fetched up against some reeds and a dead branch, and nothing had ever felt so wonderful in his short life; he grasped the branch, ignoring its rough bite into his palm, and hauled himself up onto the muddy bank, coughing and spitting and blinking.

The first thing Calen saw when his eyes uncrossed was the point of a sharp arrow. Then he saw a grim-faced hobbit behind it, holding the bow ready to fire. "Climb up, boy," said the hobbit, voice deep and colder than the river-water. "Slowly."

Well, Calen was caught. His chest tightened, but he was a _Dunedan_ , a Ranger's son, he was not going to cry. Instead, he sighed, and coughed once more, and the mud squelched between his fingers as he obediently clambered up the bank.

*

" 'The city of Caras Galadhon stands on a hill'," Calen read, leaning back more comfortably against the stone wall " 'its _mallorn-trees_ like towers of silver and green, and gold in autumn. A light shines from the city's heart, by day and by night, suffusing the Golden Wood with a soft radiance.' "

"That's what my Da said it was like," Farry agreed in a hushed voice; he lounged backwards over the wall, his hair brushing Calen's head. "When his birthday came, while the Company bided there, they took him up to a high place, and he said all he could see was glowing golden-green, as if he sat on a raft on a sea of green light beneath the blue sky." Farry took another bite of cake, and Calen felt crumbs fall into his hair. "What do you want most in all the world?" Farry asked, chewing.

Calen snorted and shook his head, carefully holding his book to the side so no crumbs would fall into it. It was a history of Eriador, which Calen's father had given him, and it had maps of every populated land from Ithilien to the Sea. "For you to cease dining over my head," he replied, and Farry laughed, showering Calen with crumbs. Setting his book aside, Calen reached up one-handed, grabbed a brace, and tugged; Farry shouted as he flipped over Calen's head, and landed with a 'whuff!' on his belly in Calen's lap.

Calen laughed as Farry climbed down onto his feet, straightening his clothes and brushing himself off. "Is that any way to treat your elder?" Farry demanded, hands on hips, brown eyes narrowed, and Calen laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bench. For all that he was eleven to Calen's ten, Farry was no larger than a two-year-old. "Is using me as a trencher any way to treat a friend?" Calen replied between giggles, and Farry's eyes crinkled merrily, despite his stern stance, before he draped himself on Calen's knee and joined him in laughter.

After a few moments, Farry wound down and began brushing crumbs from Calen's jerkin. "You haven't answered my question," he said. "What do you want most, Calen? My birthday is coming soon, and I want to know what to give you."

"To give to me?" Calen asked, puzzled till he remembered the halfling custom; then he thought for a moment. The Golden Wood of Lorien still lingered in his thoughts, its magical light and tall silver-gold trees, an image of radiance that tugged at his heart. Calen thought of Queen Arwen and her fair pearly glow, like the moon at dusk, and the tugging grew to a sweet ache of longing. What would a land be like, filled with Elves like her beneath shining _mallorn_ trees? Lorien was far away, but there was a _mallorn_ closer, to the south and west of Annuminas...

"I want to see a _mallorn_ ," Calen said, looking up at the blue sky, imagining the sea of green-gilt leaves. "There is one in the Shire?"

"In Hobbiton!" Farry fairly bounced. "My Uncle Samwise, well, Mayor Gamgee, but he's been friends with my Da and Uncle Merry since time out of mind, and two of his sons are named for Da and Unvle Merry, he planted a _mallorn_ as the new Party Tree, after they came back from their Travels to throw out the Ruffians."

Calen picked up his book again, and found the map of the Shire. "Hobbiton is a city of the Westfarthing."

"Not a city like this," Farry corrected. "Hobbits don't have cities like this, we have towns. But I know where Hobbiton is, and you have a map and I'm good at camping and you're going to be a Ranger. We should go! That'll be my present to you, Calen! I'll bring you to the _mallorn_."

Calen drew in a great breath of delight, and tried to thank Farry, but couldn't find words; instead, he picked him up and embraced him, and Farry laughed and wound his arms round Calen's neck and held him in return.

*

The hobbit kept his bow drawn and trained on Calen as three others squelched down the bank to bind his hands with rough rope. He felt miserable, cold and wet and muddy, worried for Farry and Siggy and Bergie, sick with all the river-water he'd swallowed, but he kept his head up even though water ran from the wrappings round his head and dripped into his eyes. Rangers kept their pride even when captured.

Even if he so very badly wanted to cry.

Two hobbits on either side of him tugged at his sleeves to guide him up the bank. He heard Bergie weeping before he saw her; two other hobbits stood with her, hands on her shoulders, and when she saw Calen and started towards him they held her arms. "He's just a little lad!" she pleaded. "He's only ten years old!"

"He's still not a hobbit," replied the hobbit with the bow. "He shouldn't be here, by order of the King."

"All he wanted was to see the Party Tree," Bergie retorted, and he folded his arms. "You'd best shut your mouth, lass," he told her. "You're in enough trouble yourself." Bergie folded up at that, weeping again, and Calen's heart ached within him. "Bergie---" he said, but the hobbits tugged him away from her, dragged her out of his sight.

"Where'll we take them?" asked one of his guards of the hobbit with the bow, who tilted his head and looked up at Calen. "What's your name, boy?" he asked.

Calen shivered, cold inside and out, but defiantly stood a little straighter. "Calenbarad son of Rinbarad," he said, "of the Rangers of the North."

The hobbit nodded. "And why have you disobeyed King Elessar's decree, Calenbarad?"

"The King's decree?" Calen's knees went wobbly, and he felt even more ill. He'd thought the law restricting Men from visiting the Shire was an ancient, leftover rule, that they'd be so proud of him they'd pardon him. But if it were King Elessar's law----he gulped, fear drying his mouth and sticking his tongue fast.

"The King's decree," confirmed the hobbit, grimly. "Come on," he said to his fellows. "They're to go before the Mayor, he's home at Bag End."

*

Calen lay curled on the haybales in a hobbit-sized barn, trying to ignore his growling stomach and reading the Shire-map in his book by moonlight. Farry lay asleep, wrapped in his father's overlarge cloak and tucked into the curve of Calen's body; tilting the book to better see the middle of the map, he accidentally brushed Farry's ear, and laughed quietly when Farry snorted and batted vaguely at it.

Calen might be hungry and dirty, but he was also exhilarated. He was finally on a journey, using the skills that were his birthright as a Ranger, traveling with a boon companion, just as if he were grown. Better yet, his friend was a hobbit; for once in his life, he was the tall one. Calen thought of telling his father of the adventure and giving him a pressed _mallorn_ -leaf, of seeing his hawk-nosed face crinkle with pride, and his heart swelled in his chest. Not to be ignored, his stomach growled again.

"Lads?" Calen sat up at the whisper; Bergie walked carefully, and he never would have heard her if she hadn't called to them. She carried at basket in her hand and a blanket beneath her arm, and gave Calen a kindly smile that reminded him of his young aunt Malvorwen, his best friend now that his father had gone away.

Well, his best friend besides Farry, who was guiding him through the Shire to see a _mallorn_. Calen sat up carefully and returned Bergie's smile. Like Malvorwen, Bergie was a high-spirited maiden; she was apparently a cousin of Farry's somehow, but Calen had given up long ago on understanding hobbit family relationships. What mattered was that Bergie was kind, and not too bossy, and had brought them food. The basket smelled of fresh bread and strawberries; Calen's stomach grumbled as if it wanted to climb out and attack the basket all on its own. With hobbit senses for food, Farry woke and sat up, rubbing his eyes, and reached out to embrace and kiss Bergie. "You're _wonderful_!" he whispered, grabbing the basket; a savory scent drifted up, and Farry's face nearly split in a grin. "Mushrooms! Oh, Bergie!" Farry pulled two flat, brown, shiny things out, shoved one into his mouth, and passed the other to Calen, who took it dubiously. Calen had found that Farry had very good sense about food, but still...

Bergie giggled, pressing her hand to her mouth. "It's a mushroom, Calen. It's good." Calen ate it, and it was indeed good, some sort of vegetable with an almost meaty flavor. Farry handed him a chunk of bread, and Calen took it with one hand, tugging the basket closer with the other, despite Farry's mushroom-muffled objections. Still, a Ranger must remember his manners, Calen reminded himself. "Thank you, Miss Bergamot," he said solemnly, and Bergie dimpled; pleased with himself, he stuck his hand into the basket and came up with the rest of the loaf. Farry grabbed it and it broke in half, and Bergie watched them eat and giggled behind her hand.

While Farry and Calen ate the cheese and bread, mushrooms and strawberries, Siggy came into the barn, not quite as quietly as Bergie had; the crackling of straw betrayed him, and Calen repressed a smirk, knowing he could do better. Siggy sat down beside Farry and filched a strawberry; he had told Calen that he was fourteen, and Bergie twenty-four, but Calen sometimes found it hard to credit, when they were all so much shorter than he, round-faced and large-eyed. But then, hobbits were like that, he reminded himself.

Bergie took a pale strip of cloth from her bundle, and looked at Calen appraisingly, then wound it round his head, tugging it tight. "What are you doing?" Calen asked, pulling away; she put her hands on her hips, just as Malvorwen would. "Hold still," she scolded. "You lads have been travelling through rather empty lands; we have to go through more populated places on our way, and someone will spot these round ears unless you let me hide them."

Well, there was sense in that. Calen subsided and Bergie wound the cloth round his head, then another strip, till all his hair and the tops of his ears were covered. "There, that's good. We should do your feet, too."

Calen poked at the swaddling round his head. "I shall look like I've been wounded," he said dubiously, and she nodded. "Just so, Calen. If anyone notices, we'll tell them that you were hurt in a house-fire."

Siggy looked him over. "He's still too tall," he said, and ate another strawberry. "We can say he's your half-brother, Farry," said Bergie, and Farry looked at her curiously over his strawberry. "Why mine?" he mumbled, mouth full. "He and I don't resemble at all."

"Your Da and Master Meriadoc are the tallest hobbits ever," Bergie replied. Farry cocked an eyebrow at her and looked at Calen. "He looks more like Uncle Merry, if he looks like any of us at all," he replied. "I think he should be Uncle Merry's son."

"Who will his mother be?" Siggy asked, and they were off in discussions of families again. As he kept eating, Calen returned to his map; according to it, they were still in the North-Farthing, fairly near to the Road that led through the Bindbale Wood. There was a stream going past the town of Oatbarton that might provide a shorter way, but Calen had no idea where they would get a boat.

Farry's yell interrupted Calen's musings. "You can't come with us!" he cried. Bergie had her hands on her hips again. Siggy grinned, watching the show.

"Faramir Took, be quiet!" Bergie hissed. "You'll wake everyone and get yourselves caught! See, I told you you need me, if you haven't even the wit to keep your voice low!"

"Besides, Togo lives in Bywater," said Siggy. Bergie shifted her glare to him. "Who's Togo?" asked Calen.

"A friend," said Bergie, face turning pink as a strawberry; "her sweetheart," said Siggy and Farry, smirking. "She wants to run off and see him," Farry continued, folding his arms, shifting his expression to a frown. "That's not respectable behavior."

"And haring off across the Shire is?" Bergie retorted. "I'm coming with you lads, or I'll go down to Greenfields and let the Shirrifs know where you are!"

To come all this way, just to be caught! "Please, no!" Calen cried; her fierce look softened, and she reached out a small hand to pat his. "No, no, I won't," she reassured. "But you lads should have someone older with you. For all your height you're only ten."

"As if you're so old, tweenager," Farry retorted, but he was smiling now. "All right, Bergie. Come if you like. But we're setting out at night, like my Da did during his Travels."

"Why thank you, Master Took," she said sarcastically, and ruffled his hair. Calen looked over at Farry's outraged expession and had to laugh.

*

Calen trudged between his guards, between the little buildings and banked hills of Hobbiton; the rope itched and chafed round his wrists, his feet squelched in their wet bindings, and his garments clung clammily to his body. Some hobbits popped out of their holes or glanced up from their tasks to regard him curiously; he caught a few scowls that made him feel even worse, if that were possible. He'd just wanted to see the Party Tree and press a flower and a leaf, and the hobbits were treating him as if he'd come to invade and destroy and hurt.

Calen felt his chest tighten, and bit his lip and stood up straight. He was the son of a Ranger, and when this was all over he wanted his father to be proud of him. Their path led them uphill and over some sets of stairs; sometime in their walking they passed the Party Field, and the _mallorn_ glimmered silver-green-gold at the edge of his vision, but he couldn't bear to raise his head and look upon it now from the depths of all this disgrace.

They came to a stop, the hobbits tugging on Calen's arms to halt him. Bergie stood behind him, Calen could hear her quiet, defeated sobbing; he looked down at his feet and saw that he stood on flagstones, with flowers to either side, bright flowers. Calen could almost have been glad of the flowers, but for the disaster his trip had ended in.

The door opened. "So, this is the boy?" said a warm motherly voice, and Calen looked up despite himself; a hobbit couple stood there, solid and plump in their middle years, little hobbit-children peeking curiously around them. The lady smiled at him. "Hamfast's age, don't you think?" she said to her husband, who looked sterner, but had kind brown eyes. "Still damp," he replied, taking his pipe out of his mouth. "We'd best get him a blanket to sit on. Come in, lads, and mind the door."

Calen's guards tugged him forwards; his head brushed the doorway and he blinked in the dimness, then glanced around despite himself.

"Welcome to Bag End," said the hobbit with the pipe. "I'm Mayor Samwise Gamgee, this is my wife Mistress Rose, and you must be the cause of all this fuss."

*

"Calen, hurry up!" Farry skipped ahead through the woods, Siggy even further ahead; Calen leaped after them and stumbled. The bindings on his feet dulled the feel of the ground, far worse than boots did.

"Wait up, Farry!" called Bergie, who had stayed to pace Calen. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to walk faster, not about to be outdone by hobbits a foot shorter than he. Of course, that just made him trip and fall to his knees.

"Easy, lad!" Bergie gave him her hand, not that she could really have pulled him up. Calen carefully got up without leaning on her; it still amazed him, how small everything was in the Shire, how pretty and rounded and often even delicate. But then, he recalled Farry's awe and wonder at the towers and steps of Annuminas, how big he found everything. Annuminas was as yet nothing to Minas Tirith, said the boys from Gondor, but to Farry it had seemed huge.

"So, why are you here, Calen?" Bergie asked. "Why are you travelling the Shire?"

Calen smiled. "There's a _mallorn_ in the town of Hobbiton," he said, and she looked at him blankly, then remembered and nodded. "The Party Tree!" she said. "You're coming all this way to see the Party Tree?"

"It's an Elven tree," he pointed out. "It's the only one west of the mountains, and I so want to see it, more than anything else. I want to get a flower of it for my aunt Malvorwen, and a leaf to show my father that I'm old enough for journeys. And, well, I want to see it. They say it looks like a tower of silver, with flowers and leaves of gold."

"It _is_ very pretty," said Bergie. "And Elves, well, yes, they're magic." She looked dreamily off into the distance for a moment, then looked up at him. "But still, aren't your parents worried about you?"

Calen didn't want to speak of his parents. He'd have to explain that his mother was dead and his father gone away to Gondor, and then Bergie would give him that sad sorry look everyone did. "Are yours not worried? You're a girl, and all."

Bergie folded her arms and tossed her head, her traveling-braids tumbling down her back. "I'm older than you," she pointed out. "And I left my Mam a note, and, well, she's been cross with me and Siggy for awhile now. I'm sure she doesn't miss us. Besides, lasses aren't so helpless. Who's been feeding you, ungrateful lad?"

Calen had to concede that point. His father and his instructors had taught him about wild plants, but between Siggy's hunting and Bergie's sharp eye they'd found far more food than he'd ever dreamed existed away from settlements. Bergie had insisted that they avoid towns and villages as much as they could; at her family's farm she'd told them she'd heard at the Post-Office that folk were looking for the runaway Faramir Took and the boy with him. So it was fortunate indeed that she and Siggy could keep them fed. "My apologies, Bergie," he said as he thought his father might, and she smiled, so like his aunt, aside of being half the height. "I am grateful to you."

"Oh, no matter," she said, dimpling, and then looked ahead to see where Farry and Siggy were. "So do you like the Shire?"  
[note for rewrite Talk about how much he loves the Shire, how little and fair it all is. But go into detail. He thinks for a paragraph when Bergie asks him, but can only blurt what he says, so she laughs.]  
"How might I not?" Calen replied, looking up at the open woods, recalling the pretty little villages, seeming so far till he recalled how small they were. "It is green and fair here, and I am so tall!"

Bergie laughed at that till she staggered, but whatever she might have replied was forestalled when Farry dropped back to them. "We're just a day from Hobbiton, I think," he said, and Calen nodded, his map had told him the same. "Bergie, while you're down at the Party Field, Siggy and I will go up to Bag End."

"I still think that's foolish," Bergie said without much heat after days of arguing the point. "'Tis the Mayor's home, and all."

"Goldi and Merry and Pippin would never betray me, not even to their Da," Farry retorted. "And someone has to post my letter to my Mam and Da, and Calen's to his aunt in Norbury, so they'll know we're well and on the way home. Don't you want someone to send your letter to your Mam for you, or to carry word to Togo?" Bergie subsided, frowning, and Farry stuck out his chest. "And I'm sure they might spare us some of Aunt Rose's cooking, too, before we have to go. It'll be fine, Bergie!"

Calen looked to Bergie, who bit her lip but said nothing. "Perhaps when they get the letters they'll call off the searches!" Farry added, his hope warm and catching, and Calen smiled back and nodded. "You're daft," Bergie muttered, but smiled nonetheless.

*

[note: copy scene with Sam's children, then take aside and shorten. He questions his children, then sends them off with Rose, and contemplates the young people before him.]

They were conducted into a sitting-room, where small softly-stuffed furniture formed an oval with a fireplace at one end. Two wide-eyed hobbitlasses spread out a blanket over the rug, and Calen and Bergie were directed to sit on it, several of the guard hobbits between them. Mayor Samwise and his wife sat directly before them, and he spoke softly to the chief guard-hobbit while she murmured to the hobbitlasses. They left the room, and Mayor Samwise turned his attention to Bergie; head down, Calen listened dully to the Mayor's patient questioning and Bergie's sobs and answers. He felt so sunk in misery he couldn't even be afraid. It had all gone wrong.

Even so, when the Mayor looked at him, Calen felt it, and raised his head to meet an expression warm and stern at once. "I wish I might say well met, Calenbarad son of Rinbarad," he told Calen, who could only nod listlessly in agreement. "Still, we're met, lad, so tell me why you're here."

Calen opened his mouth, but no words would emerge. He shook his head and looked down, but the Mayor's rough small hand took his chin and gently tilted it back up. "Tell me, Calenbarad," he said, his voice like Calen's father's when Calen had done something he knew he ought not to do, and beside him Mistress Rose sat with her hands folded in her lap, giving Calen a kind look that made his eyes ache with tears he wouldn't shed. Calen nodded, working his mouth for a long moment before he could say, "I wanted to see the _mallorn_ , sir."

Mayor Samwise smiled at that, just a little, almost as if he understood. "And did you?" he asked, but before Calen could answer they heard boys shouting in the hall, and then a girl's shrieking as well.

Soon enough, the shouting came into the room, and with it the most lovely hobbitlass Calen had ever seen, perhaps the loveliest lass of any of the Peoples. Her skin was the palest of pinks, her hair a braided rope of silvery gold, and her eyes like stars even as they narrowed with the effort of restraining a younger girl, one with a mass of wild tight golden curls and a mouth open wide as she shouted "you slimy toad!"

The object of her ire was a hobbitboy a bit older than Calen, who was being dragged along by the chief guard-hobbit and was shouting back, "they ran away! It was lying to say nothing!"

From behind them, though Calen couldn't see him, rose Farry's voice. "It was NOT lying!" The golden-haired girl yelled agreement and the hobbitboy challenge, till a quiet voice cut through the din. "Pippin. Goldilocks. Faramir Took. Be _still_ ," said Mistress Rose, and they promptly fell quiet. Everyone in the room was.

Mayor Samwise patted Calen's cheek, smiled a little wider, and sat back, watching his wife walk over to pinch Goldilocks and Pippin's eartips in her hands and take them from their guards. The beautiful hobbitlass rubbed her wrists and turned to go back out of the room, revealing Farry behind her in the doorway, another guardhobbit with him. Farry's eyes and mouth went round with dismay when he saw Calen and Bergie, but he didn't say anything.

"Where are Merry and young Master Chubb-Took?" asked Mayor Samwise, as Goldilocks and Pippin glared at each other and squirmed beneath their mother's hold on their ears. "Here's Merry," replied the beautiful hobbitlass, driving before her a hobbitlad of perhaps Siggy's age. "I left Siggy in the kitchen with Rose. Shall I fetch him, Dad?"

"No, Elanor, this'll do. I think the parlor's full enough." Elanor giggled behind her hand; so did Merry, till his father's look quelled him. "Now. You, Calenbarad, came to the Shire to see the Party Tree. You, Faramir Took, guided him." Farry nodded. "You, Bergamot Chubb-Took, and your brother, assisted him." Bergie sniffled and murmured assent. "And you, Goldilocks Gamgee, my daughter, were also an accomplice."

"Da---" began Goldilocks shrilly, before wincing as her mother pinched her ear harder. When she spoke again her voice was softer, but still unrepentant. "Yes, Dad, I helped Farry! He's my friend!"

"Loyalty is good, Goldi," observed the Mayor, "but so's hobbit-sense. And how did you come into this, Pippin Gamgee?"

Pippin puffed up his chest, despite Goldi and Farry's glares. "When Merry told me he was going down to town to mail the letters, and told me Farry was in the back storeroom and Goldi was feeding him, I went and told you, Dad. Farry's run away from his parents, and brought a Man into the Shire!"

So _that_ was how they'd been found out! Calen growled, just enough sense left to him that he didn't try to rise, but the hobbits on either side of him grasped his arms; Mayor Samwise gave him a stern look that restrained him more than their hands, and he dropped his head and slumped. "Pippin, this young Man is Calenbarad, and he's younger than you are. Does he look like a danger?"

Farry grinned and Goldi smiled, and Calen sighed, somehow relieved though he knew not why. Perhaps it would not go so badly with them.... Pippin looked at Calen with round eyes, confusion on his face. "No, Dad, he looks wet and sad, and Farry said he's a grand friend. But still, he broke a rule, didn't he?"

"Yes, lad, he did. And so did the hobbits who helped him." Mayor Samwise looksd as if he'd say more, but Farry put in, "it was all my idea, Uncle Mayor Sam! Please don't punish Goldi and Merry and Bergie and Siggy."

Calen's faint hope flared stronger as he watched Farry lift his chin, standing trembling and pale and brave like a hero in a tale. Calen turned his head so Farry would notice him, and smiled proudly at him when he did.

Farry smiled back, but also bit his lip. Mayor Samwise rose with a little sigh, and went to Farry to lay a hand on his head. "Faramir, it is good of you to be honest, but each of them chose to aid you. Your penalty is up to your father." Farry frowned on those words, looking scared, and Goldi and Pippin paled behind Mayor Samwise. "My children's is up to me, is it not?" Farry nodded, dropping his eyes, and Mayor Samwise turned to his children, touching each of them on the cheek. "Merry, do you have anything to add?" Merry shrugged and shook his head; the Mayor patted his head once, then continued, "Goldilocks and Merry, you are each confined indoors to Bag End for two weeks. Your mother will assign you extra chores as she sees fit." They sagged, but didn't protest. "Pippin, if I see or hear of you lording this over them, you will have the same punishment." Pippin nodded, wide-eyed; Mistress Rose looked at Mayor Samwise, who nodded to her, and then left, herding her children before her,

"Bergamot Chubb-Took, you and your brother are to return to the Northfarthing with the Shirrifs." [Farry, I told you what's up, we're returning you to your father. Calen, you're not a hobbit,what will we do with you?]

 

 

 

Back and forth storytelling: List of scenes:

 

[Making it to Mallorn. Forgetting hunger (they ran out of food) in wonder. Wow! Picking a flower.and a leaf. Farry and Siggy go off to get food at Bag End. Don't come back. Hobbits arrive to chase them down.]

[Mayor saying what will we do with you? Talk turns to book. Calen digs out book from pack, finds it soaked, starts crying.]

[Boat trip up to Buckland, as fastest way. Meeting King there. collected by King and aunt and guardians. Punishment: sent to Gondor. Calen pleads for clemency for his friends. They give him a pressed mallorn flower and leaf. Thanks friends, end of story.

[Write for Challenge 9 : Your starter for Challenge 7 is to write a Post-Quest story starting with the sentence: [editing notes: make Calen talk the way I have Boromir and Faramir talk. Edit his speech carefully. Also edit Sam's speech carefully. Reread for it.]]


End file.
